Page 14 of Challenged By the Mountain Man

"If I go any lower, I'm holding the damn handle."

"That's the idea."

She huffs out a breath, but she does it, moving her hands to where they should be. Her grip is still too tight. I can see the tension in her forearms, but it's a lot better.

"Feet wider," I say. "Shoulder width. You need stability or you're going to end up on your ass when you swing."

She shifts her stance, spreading her feet. "Like this?"

"Bend your knees a little. You're too stiff."

She bends them, and I circle around to check her form from the side. It's still not great, but it's not actively dangerous anymore, which is about the best I can hope for.

"Now what?" she asks.

"Now you learn the most important part."

"Which is?"

"Don't hit yourself in the leg."

She turns to look at me, and there's something almost amused in her expression. "That's your expert advice? Don't hit myself?"

"You'd be surprised how many people forget that part."

"I'm not an idiot."

"Didn't say you were. I'm just saying the axe doesn't care how smart you are. It'll take a chunk out of you either way."

She turns back to the chopping block, and I can see her processing everything I just said, the same way she probably catalogs everything: neat, organized and under control. It's the same way she looked at the generator earlier, like if she just paid close enough attention, she could master it through sheer force of will.

I know that look. I used to see it in the mirror.

"Show me," she says.

I take the axe from her, our fingers brush for half a second, and I pull back faster than I need to. There's a piece of birch already set up from before she got here. I adjust my stance, lift the axe, and bring it down in one smooth motion. The log splits clean, both halves falling to either side.

"You make it look easy," she says.

"I've been doing it for eight years."

"Still."

I set another piece on the block and hand her the axe. "Your turn."

She takes it, and I watch her reset her grip, adjust her stance, everything I just showed her. She lifts the axe. It’s awkward, slow, but not terrible, and brings it down.

She misses the center by three inches. The blade glances off the side of the log and buries itself in the chopping block with a *thunk* that makes Bear lift his head.

"Shit," she says.

"You're still in one piece. That's better than I expected."

She glares at me, but there's no real heat in it. "Thanks for the vote of confidence."

"Try again. Aim for the center this time."

She pulls the axe free, resets the log, and swings again. This time she gets closer, only an inch off, but the log doesn't split. The blade sticks halfway through, and she has to wiggle it back and forth to get it loose.